


Bad Habits

by schizoauthoress



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Lovers to Friends, M/M, talking past each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoauthoress/pseuds/schizoauthoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Rhodes, military liaison to Stark Industries, doesn't even last one whole party rubbing elbows with the rich and famous before he needs a smoke break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: This is an experimental format that I used once before -- I call it a "drabble chain" fanfiction. Each section is 100 words (according to http://wordcounter.net , my stat-engine of choice) but they lead into each other. In this case, the third person limited POV switches between characters for each section.  
> Note 2: No, I didn't get Rhodey's rank wrong, I'm just setting this before he gets his present day rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Every word counts in a drabble! :P

He would never regret being Tony's friend, but Jim was plenty annoyed that he'd been given the posting as liaison to Stark Industries because nobody else wanted to deal with "the billion-dollar pain in the ass". It was especially galling to be forced to play nice with socialites and financiers, at this fancy-ass party.

Jim had hated these parties ever since being dragged to one thrown by Howard and Maria, and his new attention-grabbing title made it worse.

That was why he was out on the terrace, lit cigarette in hand. He'd picked up bad habits from his latest deployment.

****

Tony frowned when he realized that he was -- yet again -- facing board members and old socialites and their retired military husbands all by himself. Someone ought to have been here, preferably by his side, to help deflect their attention. And yet, as he scanned the room with impatient eyes, Tony could not find Major James Rhodes anywhere.

He huffed out something that might be interpreted as 'excuse me' and snatched a glass of bourbon from a passing waiter's tray.

'That son of a... no, you like Roberta,' Tony thought, knocking back the drink and grabbing another as he walked.

****

Jim considered flicking the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, just for maximum brattiness. 

However, with the way his luck was going these days, the damn thing would catch fire. No, he ground it out in the heavy glass ashtray that the staff had thoughtfully placed out here, as expected.

He hadn't wanted his 'connections' with Tony Stark to be what people thought of when they saw him. It had been like that at MIT, and Jim hadn't exactly minded at the time... But things should have been different here in 'the real world'.

He lit up again.

****

Tony plastered on a smile as Old Lady Windmiller's twenty-something granddaughter approached him, but he let the expression wobble slightly as she got closer. 

It must have been convincing, because she asked, "Are you all right, Tony?" with nearly genuine-sounding concern.

"Yeah, yeah, Brooke. Of course," he said hurriedly, "just need a bit of air, I think..."

"Go on," Brooke Windmiller smiled sympathetically. "I'll hold off Vanity Fair."

'Oh _god_ ', Tony thought, 'somebody let the press in.' Aloud, he told Brooke, "You're a real peach," and wandered away toward the French double doors that led out onto the terrace.

****

Jim ground out his second spent cigarette -- remembered doing so in the endless desert hours of his first deployment. Boredom and irritation were the same everywhere, he supposed.

The French doors opened, and his refuge was filled with the sounds of the party he'd left. Jim gritted his teeth and refused to turn around. 

Silence returned, when whoever it was firmly shut the doors.

"Those things will kill you, Sourpatch," Tony said dryly.

Jim finally turned, and took in the sight of Tony in his impeccable tuxedo, tumbler of liquor firmly in hand. He nodded toward it. "So will those."

****

Tony watched his best friend light up another cigarette, and turn to look back out at the ocean view. He felt vaguely offended. Surely he was more interesting than the ocean, and anyone who'd driven Jim out onto the terrace.

(Of course it had to be a party guest. After all, Tony could hardly stand them himself.)

Tony gulped at his glass, before remembering that any more alcohol would mean venturing back inside, and switched to a sip instead.

"You wanna get out of here?" he offered. 

Jim blew a streamer of grey smoke into the air and didn't answer.

****

Jim heard the ice in Tony's glass rattle, and he kept smoking in silence.

"Hey," Tony said, more sharply. "Rhodey..."

"Nah," Jim interrupted him. "We ought to stay on the premises."

" _On the premises_." Tony repeated incredulously. "Really? Do you hear yourself? Shit, Rhodey, the Air Force made you a lot more _straight-laced_."

Jim snorted, knowing the word choice to be deliberate and refusing the rise to the bait. Nothing bothered Tony more than not getting a reaction when he purposely sought a particular one. "Kind of a requirement, Tony."

"I guess _so_ ," Tony said, half sneering.

****

Tony let the bourbon linger for longer in his mouth this time, waiting for Jim to reply. Instead, Jim continued to smoke, continued to show Tony his back.

Tony considered draining the tumbler and throwing it at Jim's head, to see if that would get a response.

"You know," Jim said, as if on cue after Tony finished imagining the ice flying everywhere, "you're a real pain in the ass."

"And you're slow as shit, if you just picked up on that," Tony snapped, trying to mask the hurt he felt with an insult. Jim made a noncommittal noise.

****

Tony came to stand beside Jim -- stood too close, really -- and if he leaned a bit to the left, they'd bump hips.

"Touch me right now," Jim said, tired warning in his voice, "and I'll break your thumb."

Tony laughed under his breath, and Jim braced for some smart remark. After a moment, though, Tony's reply was serious. "Relax. I know the rules."

"Knowledge of the rules has never stopped you from breaking them before," Jim pointed out.

Tony snickered again. "Yeah, all right." He set his glass down, beside Jim's ashtray. "This is different, though. This is your life."

****

Jim slanted a disbelieving look at him, and Tony found he couldn't even blame the man for doubting. Tony had a reputation for disregarding boundaries as he pleased, goading people when bored, and only playing nice if it suited him. Jim must have forgotten that keeping his best friend close suited Tony very well.

"I know how much the Air Force means to you," Tony said quietly. "And this isn't a game. You aren't..."

Jim stubbed out his latest cigarette, and didn't light up right away. "I'm not...?"

"I can behave." Tony insisted instead. 

Jim snickered this time.

"I can!"

****

"You can't insist on only working with me," Jim said, instead of pursuing thoughts Tony would obviously rather drop. "If they change my posting or if I deploy again, you've got to work with the new liaison."

"I know."

"I can't do a thing to get you new contracts after this one is up, either."

"I _know_ , Rhodey," Tony replied, irritated. "I wouldn't ask you to."

Jim lit up again.

"Wait..." Understanding dawned on Tony's face, along with anger. "Did you think I arranged for you to do this for kickbacks?!"

"I know why I have this job, Tony."

****

"Oh? Enlighten me." Tony ground out coldly.

Jim raised an eyebrow. This was a side of Tony he'd rarely seen, but there was something gratifying in the proof that he could still get under the billionaire's skin, if he really tried. Jim blew a mouthful of smoke away from them, and let his lips twist into a wry smirk. "I have this job because you're such an insufferable asshole that the Colonel threw me under the bus for being able to deal with you."

That wasn't what Tony had been expecting to hear. He laughed, shaking his head.

****

"Do you really hate working with me that much?" Tony had to ask.

The smirk wavered on Jim's face, and his dark eyes went soft. "No," he said firmly, "I just don't want it to look like I'm taking advantage of 'being friends with the kid who's richer than God'."

The reminder of that old accusation, flung at Jim during their days at MIT by a jealous classmate, got Tony shaking his head. "I know you don't. And... I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." Jim exhaled smoke again as the word blended into a sigh. "I'm sorry, too. For a lot of things."

****

"That's four," Tony said, jerking his chin toward Jim's cigarette. "You gonna make it more?"

"And how many is _that_?" Jim asked, flicking his hand toward Tony's alcohol. The cherry end of his cigarette trembled, but held its ash.

"Not enough," Tony answered, with a significant look toward his party beyond the French doors.

"Same here," Jim said, before taking a drag. He knew what Tony's next look meant. He knew the offer that was perched on the tip of Tony's tongue, because it had been before.

Tony swallowed the words along with more bourbon. And Jim was relieved.


End file.
